


room #2046

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 2046, Drinking, F/M, Gambling, Gen, Hotels, I have a soft spot for these films okay, In The Mood For Love, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Prompt Fic, Undercover, skoulsonfest2k16redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy and Coulson and hotel rooms (and Wong Kar-Wai movies).</p>
            </blockquote>





	room #2046

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> I wrote this for the #skoulsonfest2k16redux (Day 1). Prompt: [HOTEL ROOMS]. I also made a fanmix inspired by the movie _2046_ for the fest which I posted on tumblr, I think it also fits the story (that's what I intended, anyways).  
>  I used many elements from the two Wong Kar-Wai movies I tagged (I listed them at the end).  
> Obviously, this fic is mostly for zauberer_sirin.  
> Hope you enjoy!

**1.**

It starts only a few months after she’s joined S.H.I.E.L.D., after a mission in far-away Boston. They’re all a little injured – nothing dramatic, but just the right amount to make you feel fed up with _everything_ – and very, very tired, so Coulson announces they’re going to stay at a small hotel right at the end of the street (Skye can make out the neon handwriting on top of the roof from here, through the rain; it says _Hotel Wang_ ).

They all get rooms scattered all over the building; it’s not a very large hotel, but there is a surprisingly high amount of (tiny, it turns out) single rooms. Coulson and her accidentally end up on the same corridor, almost bumping into each other as they’re trying to find their rooms in the dim light. There’s some nervous chuckling (on Skye’s side, that is – Agent Coulson is sporting that unbelievable smirk), and they ask each other about their room numbers. Coulson’s got something near the fire escape, and Skye tries to read her room number out aloud from the engraved key – “Two-point-forty-six...?” 

They exchange a brief look, there’s more chuckling, then they manage to kill almost five minutes about odd room numbers and strange rooms and weird hotels (Skye has a lot of experience with those, okay, but she’s pretty surprised at how many stories Coulson seems to know about these things). Then, Coulson gets almost too official again, adjusting his tie, changing his posture, and there’s an awkward “good night”.

As she’s trying to fit the key into the keyhole (there’s really not enough light around here, okay, someone ought to exchange the lightbulbs maybe), Coulson calls from the far end of the corridor (she flinches, but he probably doesn’t notice in the dark, so it’s okay).  
“Yeah?” 

He’s approaching. “Sorry, this is silly –“ – Skye just can’t with the smirk, how does he do that and still look professional? Unfair – “I know the numbers are just three digits, but yours kind of looks like it’s actually 2046.”  
She looks at him like he’s reciting the phone book.  
It turns out to be the first time she’s seen Agent Coulson a little flustered.

“Sorry. That’s from – it’s from a movie. I was just wondering – would you mind switching rooms?”  
“Uh – sure?” They exchange keys.  
“Only if it’s okay with you. It’s just that – Have you seen the movie?”  
“It’s one of those apocalypse things, right? Yeah, I _think_ I’ve probably –“  
He laughs a little, and it doesn’t sound like him, not like something you’d expect from him anyway; it sounds – warm?  
“No, no. I don’t need to see that kind of stuff off-duty, too.”  
She giggles.

“No, it’s – it’s complicated. Actually, it’s taking up some things from another movie. There are different timelines involved.”  
“Oh, so it’s about time travelling? Into the future?”  
His smile stays warm. “No. But you should watch it some time.”  
She seems to sort of collect herself. “I will _now_ ,” she laughs, retreats towards where Coulson came from, passing by one of the lamps to read the room number.  
It’s the first time she notices Coulson looking after her, whatever that means (probably nothing).

 

**2.**

The next time, they’re in New York (Coulson won’t go anywhere without his sunglasses, and it takes her a while to realize that’s because he’s not allowed to let anyone know he’s alive, even though sunglasses are not really a _brilliant_ safety measure; they don’t cover that smirk, okay), staying in one of those hotels that have about fifty floors (she hasn’t counted them, that’s just what it looks like).

As always, this is a last-minute decision (the jet’s been damaged, so they’re stuck here for the night), so again, they’re scattered all over the hotel. Skye manages to catch up with Coulson as the team’s walking to the different elevators (this might actually be the most expensive and most sophisticated-looking place she’s ever stayed the night).

He almost looks shocked when she touches his elbow, and she immediately shies back a little. “Everything okay?”  
“Yeah, sure, sorry. I just thought – maybe you’d want to switch rooms.”  
He doesn’t seem to remember.  
“I have room number 47.”  
“Why would I – “  
“It’s on the 20th floor.”  
It takes him a moment.  
“Oh –“ – he smiles –, “I see. No, but the film’s title was –“  
“I know. I watched it.”  
Agent Coulson, lost for words.  
“You can pretend the room next to you is being redecorated,” she chimes, opens his hand to exchange the keys, disappears into one of the elevators, and he could swear she’s overtly flirting with him.

 

**3.**

Quite some time passes before it happens again. They’re staying at a shabby motel somewhere next to a highway patrol station in Texas. It’s actually in the middle of the night as they bump into each other. 

“Oh, wow. Hey. Sorry.” He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.  
This whole Hydra story is really taking its toll on all of them, and she knows he feels like he’s responsible for just about everything.  
“Hey.”  
“I was just going to – There’s this noodle stand on the other end?”  
She smiles a little too warmly (he hasn’t slept, okay, there’s only so much he can take right now).  
“Me too.”  
They walk over to the little shop, order some noodles, smile at each other as they discover the name on the bright red takeaway boxes; it’s Chow.  
Coulson pays for both of them.

“Thanks, Director.”  
“The least I could do, Agent Skye.”  
She sounds a little shy. “It’s going to be Daisy now. Sir.”  
For a moment, she’s positive he’s going to drop his noodles, but he manages to catch the box.  
“I’m sorry. Of course. How stupid of –“  
“No, no, it’s okay. It’s only been a few days now.”  
His smile looks really grateful, but it’s obvious that he feels really bad about it.

Everything’s lighted like in one of those half-depressing road movies, some neon lights, cars on the highway, everything a little too grey or too brown, the sky not _really_ dark.  
She feels like she needs to lighten the mood a little, because Coulson has just stopped talking altogether as they’re slowly walking back towards the motel.  
“It’s like in the other movie.”  
“Which one?”  
“Oh, you know. Bumping into each other trying to buy noodles?”  
She actually manages to make him laugh.

 

**4.**

They actually get to go on an undercover mission together, and while it feels weird, Daisy knows she probably couldn’t have pulled this off during her first year: going undercover as a couple. Coulson tries to convince her that he’s too old to be with her, but she won’t have any of it, keeps making silly jokes at their candle-lit dinner table until he asks her to dance (because there are only so many Chuck Norris jokes a gentleman can handle at once, okay).  
She looks far too pleased with herself as they join the other couples on the dance floor.

The guy they’re watching slips through a side door at one point, and Daisy’s heart is in her throat as they follow him, but it’s just a casino (probably illegal, but it doesn’t look like anyone cares; not even the authorities, it seems – there are a few policemen sitting at the blackjack table, so Daisy figures they’ll fit into the crowd just fine).  
They linger around the roulette table for a little while – long enough for Daisy to win back their dinner expenses, because come on, S.H.I.E.L.D. desperately needs the money right now –, before walking over to the poker tables. Coulson gets into it at once, it’s obvious that he feels much more at ease with card games (where there’s at least some rationality and strategy involved) than with actual games of chance.

Daisy watches for a while, and she can’t help but feel a little proud, because Coulson keeps beating everyone, including their suspect.  
After a while, though, she notices the guy talk to two or three of his shady-looking friends, and she whispers into Coulson’s ear that he’s probably drawing a little too much attention to himself. He blushes a little, and Daisy almost feels guilty for having leaned so close to his ear. They _are_ posing as an undercover _couple_ after all, though, so it’s basically the least she could do to make things seem real.

They switch to Three Card Poker, which is basically about who gets dealt higher-ranking cards, so understandably, Coulson sort of tightens up again.  
There are just a few tiny drops of sweat on his forehead, and Daisy catches herself trying to calculate whether they are visible to the suspect sitting across from him or not (and decides that she’s simply standing too close to him right now).  
Coulson keeps losing, and that, too, looks like it might draw too much attention to them, so she feels like she should tell him she’s rooting for him or something. 

She leans down again to whisper into his ear (noticing how that scumbag on the other side of the table is trying to catch _glimpses_ as she’s bending down, but okay, at least that’s drawing his attention away from _Coulson_ , who just looks really nervous right now).  
“You do realize you look like her, right?”  
He turns his head to look at her, and their noses are too close, but neither of them dares to move away (they are being watched, okay).  
“With your one black glove. Making high card draws.”  
He smiles, and for a moment, there’s a spark of something strange that almost makes her pull back (she’s not up for this, okay, that smile is just too – too much to handle right now).  
“She always wins though.”  
“There you go.”  
After that, they don’t walk away from games with a deficit anymore, at least.

 

**5.**

Things have been getting worse and worse, and there’s virtually no time at all to talk about movies (or anything else that’s nice, basically). So many things have happened, and it just feels like they’ve been sliding into their own little dystopia, trying to Save The World inmidst of chaos while civilians continue to have no clue as to what is actually going on.  
(It _does_ sound like a comic book.)

Coulson hasn’t really been the same since he’s returned without his hand. He’s not really been what you would call extremely sociable during the past few months, but now he’s basically just locking himself into his office or his bunk, sometimes going for drives at night without telling anyone where he’s going. (That’s fine, everyone needs space, okay, but she has to admit that she’s, like, crazy worried about him.)  
He’s always around when you need him, though (and he doesn’t look like he’s a mess or something). He’s still very much the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., supporting the team in all the right ways (actually, he’s supporting _Daisy_ so much that Lincoln doesn’t really talk to her for days. He definitely gets to regret that during their next sparring workout, though).  
Everything seems to continue the way it should (okay, not really the way it should, but as well as it can under these ridiculously bad circumstances).

One night, though, there’s some really alarming intel coming in on Hive, and it becomes clear that they need to move on the next day. Coulson’s not in his office, and not in his bunk, so Daisy goes looking for him in the middle of the night, in her sweat pants (she didn’t plan on going, but his bunk is right next to hers, and even through Lincoln’s unbelievably loud snoring, she would have heard it if he’d returned).  
It turns out that it’s not that hard to find him, at least not when he’s in the area. The GPS signal from his phone is not that precise, but after checking a few small bars, Daisy finds him in another shady little pub in a parallel street.

It’s not like she hasn’t ever seen him drink (because come on, obviously not) – but it’s definitely the very first time she’s ever seen him actually drunk. He doesn’t look like he’s moved since entering the bar (he’s still wearing his jacket, so he probably hasn’t even been here for that long), but there’s a lilac feather boa around his neck. She finds herself checking for lipstick stains as she’s approaching him, then feels the need to reprimand herself for doing that (because hello, none of her business).

“Hey, Phil,” she says, and even though she didn’t intend it to, it sounds a little like a sigh.  
He turns around to look at her, eyes not as open as she would like to see them, smiles at her widely.  
“Daisy.” (It sounds a little slurred, and she thinks she’d probably cry a little just about now if she could.)  
Instead, she puts her hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”  
He raises his tumbler, but that’s not really an answer. She lets him have another drink, then explains how they should move back to the base, how he needs to sleep a little.

She almost carries him back to his bunk, only stops once to throw the boa into a garbage can (there are still a few baby feathers on his collar, and they just make him look really sad). They don’t speak; she just helps him handle the key and get into bed, takes off his shoes for him.  
When she crawls back into bed, Lincoln pointedly turns his back. (Okay.) As she’s trying to find a comfortable position, something pokes the side of her thigh.  
It’s Coulson’s bunk key.

 

**6.**

It’s been months since he’s actually seen her; she’s all over the newspapers, and Mack and him keep following the few traces she leaves – sometimes not reaching her because she’s simply too good, sometimes not reaching her on purpose because you can’t trust anyone recently and he’s just not really sure what Director Talbot is up to.

To be honest, though, even though he knows she needs to be left alone for a while to figure this out, even though he knows she’d find him if she wanted to – most of the time, he’s just too slow, even with Mack’s help, even though he knows her a little by now.

After a particularly hard day following her (hard because they could actually put her into danger by getting too close, and hard because she’s taken quite some safety measures to make sure neither S.H.I.E.L.D. nor the ATCU people nor the FBI manage to get too close), Coulson returns to his small room at the bed & breakfast they’re staying at for the day.

He drops the gear bag and his jacket onto the floor next to the bathroom door, washes his face, enjoys the flowery scent of the small towel for just a little too long. Of course he trusts her, that’s not it; but things really haven’t been the same without her. Not at all the same.  
(As a matter of fact, she’s been manipulating his devices to send him a few old and melancholy jazz tracks every now and then, but that’s not the same thing; he feels like that has only made him miss her more.)

As he walks back into the room to make some instant coffee (it’s not as bad as he’d imagined it to be, okay), he spots something in the ugly little – unused – ashtray on the bedside table. It’s a slim cigarette end, and even before he carefully picks it up, he notices bright red lipstick stains on it.  
He doesn’t need to examine it to know it’s hers; he’s never seen her smoking, but this is about something else, it’s about the movie, and it makes him cry.

 

**7.**

The months have been passing by like that’s all they’ve ever been doing. He’s still wearing the stubble, he’s still Mack’s partner, and S.H.I.E.L.D. still looks like it might need a glass of warm milk and cookies. Talbot’s resigned, since they haven’t found Quake after more than a year and the president’s words had been pretty clear concerning the mission, and May’s become the new Director.

That’s not really new, but they laws have been changed over and over again, and most recently, things have begun to look more like they could finally welcome gifted people into society (that’s the way the news lady put it last night). Coulson doesn’t trust the government, he never did, but this time, things might actually become a little different. May’s told him to wait a month or two to make sure the situation concerning Inhumans stays that way (things have been sorted out with the Avengers already, but that’s different because they’ve actually been all over the press ever since they had first come into public attention in New York).

He is to attend one of those huge conferences taking place in Brussels, concerning exactly that matter, so he’s expected to behave like a diplomat (a diplomat with socialist tendencies, okay, but a _diplomat_ nonetheless, May tells him). It takes hours and hours until they even get past the introductory courtesies and political small talk, basically, so he’s probably looking forward to two or three more days of upcoming skirmish and discussion. At least the coffee there is actually good (actual _coffee_ , that is).

It’s pretty late when he returns to the hotel; it’s one of these buildings that look like someone’s been trying to enhance Baroque architecture and decoration (which is actually quite the challenge considering how about 90% of baroque architecture consist of _golden ornaments_ ). Even the receptionist looks like he’s had too much of this _rich_ environment.  
“Room 2047, _s’il-vous-plaît_.”  
“Voilà, _Monsieur_. Good night.”

The elevator looks like it could be a Parisian balcony; everything in it is ornamented and golden and there are just too many reflections. For a moment, Coulson leans in and whispers a few words into the emergency intercom; the elevator boy has his back turned but is obviously trying his hardest to not give him A Look through the mirror.  
As he steps into his room, he almost steps on a neatly folded piece of paper somebody slipped under his door.  
It’s her handwriting.

_Don’t settle for next door._

His heart is beating in his throat as he steps out into the corridor.

**Author's Note:**

> I used elements from Wong Kar-Wai's movies _In the Mood for Love_ and _2046_. If you haven't seen them, you should watch them (prepare for sadness though), they are both really beautiful. I hope the fic still makes sense if you haven't seen the movies.  
>  **Elements that echo the movies:** the room number 2046, obviously (also room number 2047), the black glove on only one hand + gambling + high draw poker + always winning, the hotel owner named Wang, accidentally meeting when going to get noodles, carrying a drunk person home + removing their shoes for them + accidentally pocketing their key (+ the feather boa), settling for the room next door (because the other room is getting redecorated), the cigarette end with lipstick stains that means _she_ was there, melancholy music, the name Chow, not finding the person you're looking for (i.e. the love of your life), risking everything to get to a place called 2046, whispering a secret into a hole of sorts.


End file.
